


Guide My Hands

by nhasablog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Dean, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses more than just his sight the day he turns blind. Fortunately Sam helps him get a few things back. Blind!Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr nhasablog.tumblr.com

Dean dreaded sleeping. When he was sleeping he would be dreaming, and when he was dreaming he would be dreaming in colors, and it was a constant reminder of what he’d lost when he got into that accident that turned him blind. Colors and images. He couldn’t see anything anymore, so when he did he knew it was a dream. It was painful and he hated it. Hated it with every fiber of his being.

Hating something won’t stop it from happening, though. Dean woke up shaking, completely soaked with sweat. Not only had he dreamed in colors; he’d had a freaking nightmare. It was more than his ten year old heart could take.

He only allowed himself one broken sob because he knew John was out of town. He’d forbidden himself from crying months ago. Crying doesn’t help anything. It’s just another thing he couldn’t see.

A hand on his arm startled him, but he didn’t need to be able to see to know who it is. “I’m fine, Sammy. Go back to bed,” he heard himself saying, his voice sounding choked up.

“Don’t cry, De,” Sam whispered.

“I had a nightmare,” Dean said, wiping his face with his hand. “I’m fine, really.” Sam was young, but ever since Dean lost his sight six months ago he’d been acting more like a parent than a kid.

Dean felt Sam climb onto the bed and sit down next to him. “Do you wanna talk about the nightmare?”

Dean could only picture him right now. He was probably sitting with his back straight, a serious look on his face, just the way adults did when they tried to seem important. They’d laughed about it so many times.

“Well,” he started, hoping his own expression looked skeptical. He wasn’t about to tell Sammy that he dreamed of the accident again. It was bad enough that Sam had witnessed it. “I dreamed of a monster,” he said, his voice low. He felt Sam lean forward.

“A monster?” His eyes were probably as wide as saucers.

Dean nodded, turning his head in his direction. “And do you know what monster it was, Sammy?”

Sam didn’t say anything, and Dean realized that he’d probably nodded out of habit.

“The tickle monster!”

Dean managed to get in a couple of pokes to Sam’s ribs before he was out of his reach, and the reality that Dean couldn’t chase him hit them both hard.

“You can’t tickle me because I keep moving away,” Sam said after a few moments of silence. “But I can tickle you, because I can see where you go!”

Dean loved that Sam wasn’t careful around him. He was tired of being treated like something about to break.

“Oh, yeah?”

He felt Sam nod eagerly this time. “Uh huh! The tickle monster has a new victim!”

To be fair, Sam tickling him was slightly more painful than ticklish, because kids usually dig in too hard and too violently, but he did get in a few good squeezes, and Dean was somewhat breathless by the time Sam backed off.

“You really got me good, Sammy,” he said when Sam giggled beside him. “Looks like we found you a new job.”

Sam fell down on the bed. “You can’t dream of the tickle monster now, because he’s right here!”

Dean smiled. “He is indeed.” He’d heard adults say a phrase like that before, and he thought it fit. “Come here, you.” He reached for him and laughed when he squealed. “I won’t tickle you, I promise.”

Sam seemed to understand what he wanted. He let himself be pulled in and snuggled up to him under the covers. “I will protect you if you have another nightmare,” he said, sounding sleepy now.

Dean exhaled slowly. “I know you will. Go to sleep now.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice.

…

As the years passed Sam formed a theory which Dean would deny until his dying breath.

“You like being tickled because it makes you feel normal,” he’d said and Dean had

snorted in reply even though he knew it was true.

He wasn’t the victim his whole life, though. Dean decided to ask Sam a favor when they were in their teens.

“It’s not fair that I never get to tickle you,” he whined.

Sam probably raised an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Hold on to me and guide my hands or something.”

Sam did, and when Dean felt his rather skinny waist under his hands he gave an experimental squeeze and Sam was giggling instantly, clenching onto his wrists but never pushing him away. Thus Dean got to finally tickle his little brother to tears after all those years, and now, when they were in their 20s, they still took turns being the victim. Dean was skillful enough now to not need Sam to guide him at all.

“I regrehehet letting you dohoho this!” Sam said as Dean pinned him down and went to town on his ribs.

“It’s too late for regrets, Sammy,” Dean replied, playing his ribs like a piano. He didn’t have to see to be able to tell that Sam was scrunching up his bright red face.

Sam grabbed his shoulders, pushing halfheartedly. “Dehehean come ohohon!” he cried. “Mercy!”

“Do you really want mercy, Sammy? After all, I think you enjoy this as much as I do.”

Dean knew that Sam loved it when he smiled, which was probably why he allowed himself to be put in this position.

But a guy had his limits, so when Dean was thrown off he wasn’t really surprised.

“Please do tell me that your hair is sticking up all over the place,” Dean said as Sam calmed down. “Man, I would love to see you with long hair.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for this awesomeness anyway.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean reached out and poked his belly, earning himself a slap on the hand.

“It’s true.”

Sam never pitied him, and Dean would always be grateful for that.


End file.
